12 Roses

25 | Listening with the Soul

You had already turned over the OPEN sign in the window and were watering the plants that needed watering when you saw the door open. You raised a brow, then dropped the watering can you were holding as Maki staggered in.

She looked around for a moment before laying her eyes on you. Her hardened glare softened.

You stepped towards her. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

A bag half the size of herself hung on her fingers. Her school backpack clung desperately to her shoulder.

You walked over, taking the large bag from her hands and placing it to the side next to the orchids.

Light red dusted her cheeks, but it wasn't a dainty blush, more like a light bruise.

The hair that you had so neatly organized into a braid was tugged at and yanked out of its elastics and stuck messily out of her head.

She stared at you, as if suddenly mute, and let out a breath so shaky that you could see it in her shoulders.

You went to the counter, pulling out the stool you normally sat on when doing your homework while on the job and brought it to Maki. She sat down without a word and stared blankly at the black and white tiled floor.

In the back room, you knocked on the open door to gain your mother's attention, who was potting small plants into pots the size of her palm. "What is it?" she asked when she saw you.

"Can I bring a friend upstairs?"

"Upstairs?" She pulled back her sleeve and looked at the watch hugging her wrist. She tapped on it with her pointer finger before signing, "Isn't it late for a friend to come over?"

You waved for her to follow you to the front and, once she did, she furrowed her brow, seeing Maki in the same position you left her, seated on a tall stool with her bag drooping off of her right arm.

Your mother walked over and knelt in front of Maki. Her face was new, not one that your mother saw when she was out for a walk or buying groceries. "Hello."

Maki's eyes moved to your mother's.

"Are you alright?"

She shrugged.

"Would you like to come inside? Our home, I mean."

"...Is there an inn I can stay at or something?"

There was, just a twelve minute drive from the flower shop. The Amaryllis Inn, an old white building with the same vintage charm as the flower shop.

Your mother turned to you. "She wants to stay at an inn."

You stared at Maki, at her once golden eyes now dull, her once perfect skin now bruised. "Does she?"

Your mother turned back. "Are you sure you want to stay at an inn tonight? There probably won't be anyone taking care of you."

"That's fine."

"Y/N likes taking care of people, you know?"

Maki's eyes glittered just slightly, like raindrops on a flower petal. Your mother looked a lot like you, except Maki believed you appeared much less stressed and more like the embodiment of golden hour.

"...I know." She rubbed her thumb against the gauze you had wrapped around her knuckles just hours before.

The entire shop smelled like you, like flowers and a ghost of vanilla. She imagined what an inn would smell like — freshly washed linen, artificial newness, the residue of past visitors.